The Dead Will Walk
by SleepPatterns
Summary: New world, new woods. "These things are sick, not to mention terrifying. They've taken everything away from me, and I'll be damned if I don't make them pay for it." Daryl/OC - Rated M for violence, language, and sexual content. (Might be a bit AU)
1. Prologue

**The Dead Will Walk**

Prologue:

_New Woods_

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><p>I've always loved the woods. No matter the time of year; winter, spring, summer, or fall—I loved 'em. There was never one particular thing that I loved about the woods. The trees weren't anything special, neither were the animals that roamed among them. The air was just like any other air, except a bit fresher, and the soil was just dirt and old leaves.<p>

In winter time, the trees would thin out and turn frail, their foliage crumbling off and sinking to the floor without a sound. I lived in Georgia, so the forest wasn't usually covered in thick, white blankets of snow, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a beautiful sight. When the sun would rise, the light would reflect off of the frozen dew drops that covered the trees and it would look like thousands of tiny, sparkling diamonds. Then, by midday, the sun would have melted the ice and the soil would be wet and cold under my bare feet (I never wore shoes. Papa called me "Toes" for years). Once nighttime rolled around, it would get so cold that you could see your breath in the moonlight. It was absolutely breathtaking.

Now, summertime was a different story. Georgia in summertime was hotter than the Devil with a fever. When Papa and I would wake up to go hunting or to spend some time outdoors, after just a few hours into the day, we'd be drenched in sweat and praying for a breeze. The air would be thick like a fog and it made it hard to breathe, but it was worth it. That's when all the game was out. Deer, rabbits, squirrels—all sorts of animals came out in those woods. Summertime was also when I was out of school, so Papa would take me out and teach me everything I needed to know about hunting, skinning, and cooking my catches.

I never thought it would've come in handy one day.

It's funny, Papa used to tease me when I was younger, saying that man-eating monsters lived in the trees and only came out at night. Being a young and naïve little girl, I believed him. So when the sun went down and darkness overcame the sky, I'd be tucked in bed, listening to Papa's loud snores and stealing glances out my window, wondering if I'd ever catch a glimpse of those man-eating monsters.

I never did.

And I'm thankful I never had.

Because, now? Now those bastards are everywhere.

Now the woods I once loved and cherished, the woods that I spent my childhood and most of my early adulthood in, the woods that secured the bond my Papa and I had, were now gone. Those woods were replaced with evil, with Hell's beasts that lurked around all day and all night. They never got tired, they never slowed down (unless you shot their legs off, of course), and they never gave up. They would keep coming, hoards of them, with their jaws snapping and their mutilated fingers reaching for their next meal.

No one really knows how it started. First it was just a common cold. Sniffles, sore throat, head aches—the norm. But then it started to get more serious. Sniffles turned to nosebleeds, sore throats turned into coughing up blood, and headaches became mind-numbing migraines that made your skull feel as though it was being cracked open with a sledge hammer. And that's not even the worst part. Soon after you experience those symptoms, this ache would spread throughout your stomach. Day by day it would grow, until moving became next to impossible. Then, finally, you'd die.

But, you wouldn't, would you?

No, instead, after a few hours of succumbing to your "death", your off-colored eyes would shoot wide open, your body would be cold, and you'd be craving the flesh of the living.

Frightening, isn't it?

When the sickness first spread, small cases were popping up all over Georgia. Papa and I lived right outside the city of Atlanta, in the outskirts of a small town called Chattanooga. I decided to stay with him after graduating college, just in case his health turned sour or if he'd need anything. Good thing I did, too. Just when the first few cases popped up, hundreds more just like them started popping up, as well. It was crazy. Everyone was in a panic, fleeing to the city for some sort of safety. I remember confronting Papa about maybe heading into the city to see what all the hype was about. _"Ain't no need for that, Toesy Rosy. You n' I both know we're safer here then out there," _He had said before shooing me into the kitchen to finish making dinner. That's my Papa for you. Old man was as stubborn as a pack mule.

But he was right. In just a few short days, they broadcasted that the military was sent in. They were putting the city under quarantine, keeping every_thing_ in and every_one_ out.

Then, just a week or two later, they dropped the bombs.

The earth shook violently, rustling the trees and scattering the birds. You couldn't walk outside without smelling the smoke. Of course, that wasn't even the half of it. With all the commotion those bombs caused, it wasn't a surprise that it brought a crowd.

Papa and I had just finished eating the night his world and mine would change forever. I'd put the dishes in the sink and closed up his TV tray. He always liked eating in the living room so he wouldn't miss _Wheel of Fortune_, even though the cable had been out for a solid two weeks. It was nearly eight at night, and the old man had fallen asleep in his La-Z-Boy, his snores sounding throughout the small house. I chuckled and placed a blanket around his legs and over his shoulders, knowing that if I tried to wake him up he'd probably just swat me away. After I turned out the lights, I headed to the bathroom to take a shower before going to bed. I hadn't even turned the water on when I heard the sliding-glass door break, shards of glass sprinkling all over the floor. The moans were the worst. They were desperate, needy, and downright terrifying.

And there were dozens of them.

I remember thinking when this all first started how awful it must be to turn into one of those monsters; to lose yourself and all of your thoughts and memories. I used to think it would be the worst thing that could happen.

But it wasn't

You know what was?

Watching as you lost the people you loved.

When I ran out into the living room to warn Papa, I knew I was already too late. He was screaming, _wailing_ as three of those bastards ripped the flesh from his bones. One was at his chest, digging its nails into his skin and pulling out chunks. The other two were at his legs, gnawing away as he attempted to kick his way out of their grasp.

But it was no use.

He was trapped, and so was I.

I couldn't move, couldn't think, and couldn't _feel._ All I could do was stand there and watch as Papa hollered for me to grab the guns and get the hell outta there. And finally, when my body decided it was ready to move, I did. I ran downstairs into the basement, opening up the gun rack. Handguns, shotguns, ammunition, buck knives, pocket knives, and one large machete, were sorted out and hung up on the wall. I scrambled for the duffle bag, zipping it open and shoving every single weapon inside. I added a few bottles of water and an extra change in clothes, just in case, and slipped into my hiking boots.

I still to this day don't know how the hell I did that without shedding a tear. Maybe it was the shock? Or the adrenaline? I'm not sure. But for whatever the reason may be, I'm thankful that I was able to hold it together long enough to climb up stairs, shoot my way past a group of the bastards, take one last look at Papa, send a prayer his way, and climb into the jeep, whipping out of the driveway and speeding off towards the tree line.

I've always loved the woods.

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><p><strong>Hey everyone! Here's the start to my new story. Hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to leave a review for me. Thanks!<strong>


	2. Chapter One

The Dead Will Walk

Chapter One:

_A Hunter's Eye_

_***Author's note: I've decided to make the rest of the story in 3**__**rd**__** person POV, considering that it's easier for me to write this way, and I'll also be able to show the emotions and feelings of the other characters as well. I hope you all don't mind. Thanks!**_

Rose squinted against the sun, releasing air from lips to blow her bangs out of her face. Sweat clung to her body like plastic wrap, consuming her skin and dripping down her legs into her boots. The thin tank top and cutoff shorts she wore did little to keep her cool from the hellish Georgia sun. It was miserably hot outside. "And no breeze," She muttered aloud, adjusting her duffle bag over her shoulders and continuing her way down the deserted highway.

One month.

One month _since the world had turned to shit. _

One month _since Papa died._

One month _since I was left alone._

And a rough month it had been. Biters were everywhere – stores, cars, highways, woods – everywhere. And they were _hungry. _Hungrier than when it all first began. Many of them would travel alone, some in groups or hoards. Rose tended to stay away from bigger cities or towns, hoping to keep a low profile. Of course, she'd still had a few run-ins with the bastards. Never more than a few at once, but that was enough to get her heart pounding and adrenaline pumping, not to mention her bat swinging.

Yeah, she used a bat. No point in using a gun – it would just draw them closer. So Rose stuck with her lucky _Louisville Slugger. _It was a nice bat and a great weapon, and most importantly it got the job done. One solid hit to the temple and the bastard would be done for. But, that wasn't her only weapon. She had a few hand guns, a rifle, and her Papa's buck knife. She used to have a lot more, but she had to drop some extra weight. Since her duffle bag was only so big and her Jeep had long since run out of gas, she was moving on foot.

"Dammit," She muttered quietly, noticing a few strays ahead of her. Rose quickly darted out of the way and behind a deserted car, peering out from over the hood. The biters walked past her, looking to be interested in something more appetizing.

And then she saw it.

A beautiful deer, with a healthy and slim body, was standing only meters way from her. Rose held her breath, watching as the biters stumbled towards the deer. They groaned and gurgled desperately trying to latch onto the animal. Of course, it didn't take long for the deer to notice the cannibals heading its way, so it simply darted off into the woods. The biters continued to follow it anyways.

_Should I? _Rose thought. Venison sounded damn good at the moment and she could easily track it. _But what the hell would I kill it with? My bat? _She scoffed at the thought. _It would be a waste of time 'n energy. No point. _

So she continued on once the coast was clear.

She approached different cars, finding a few useful supplies. One car had a pack of cigarettes in the front seat, unopened. Rose let loose a small grin, but quickly dropped it when she noticed the rotting hand that was wrapped around the packet. She sighed and made an apprehensive groan as she gently pried it off. _Now all I need is a damn lighter, _she mused to herself and continued to search for one. She reached across the console to check the front floor board but was immediately stopped in her tracks. The biter quickly latched onto her arm as grunts and snarls emitted from its rancid mouth. Rose yelped, despite herself, and reached for the knife in her belt loop. The biter nearly bit a chunk out of her arm before she could reach in and jab her buck knife into its forehead.

"Fuckin' hell," Rose groaned, sitting down in the passenger's side. She frowned over at the dead biter and sighed. "Poor bastard didn't even get the chance to open his pack yet. I'm prayin' for ya, buddy, believe me," She tore the wrapper from the fresh pack and pulled out cigarette, placing it between her lips. "Damn lighter," She muttered, searching around for it. It wasn't until she glanced up that she had no choice but to let out a chuckle.

A small yellow lighter rested in the biter's shirt pocket.

"Of course," She grinned, pulling it out and flicking it on and off. It worked. Rose lit one up and allowed herself to smile freely. "Gotta enjoy the little things," She murmured. "Especially in this world,"

**Daryl**

"Where ya goin', baby brother?" Merle Dixon slurred from inside he and his brother's shared tent. "Don' tell me yer goin' out in them woods to go whack it again," He grinned, making a vulgar hand gesture in front of his crotch.

"Shut up, bro," Daryl muttered. There was only so much of Merle that Daryl could stand in one day, so he decided to head into the woods for a hunting session. It was the only time he ever felt comfort. The younger brother glanced at the older one with a scowl. "I'll be back in a lil' bit,"

Merle sighed, a small grin playing on his lips. "A'ight, just hurry back now. Deputy Shane's gonna be wonderin' where ya went,"

Daryl scoffed under his breath as he left the tent. _As if that prick gives a damn 'bout me n' Merle, _he thought. But, sure as shit, the once-cop came strolling over to the younger Dixon, an arrogant smile playing on his lips. _Here we go, _Daryl thought as Shane approached him.

"Daryl," Shane nodded, addressing the redneck. Daryl just replied with a nod and continued his way towards the woods. But apparently Shane wasn't finished. "Where you goin', man?"

"Huntin'," He muttered with his eyes cast downwards and his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

Shane nodded and motioned to Daryl's weapon of choice. "How 'bout while you're out there, you find something a little bigger than what you've been bringin' us. There're a lot of us, ya know. We're gonna need more than a few scrawny squirrels,"

Daryl pursed his lips, sending a glare Shane's way. "I hunt what I can find. Don't need ya'll bitchin' at me fer feedin' ya." He growled. "Ya want more than just a _"few scrawny squirrels"_ then maybe ya should get out there n' find 'em yerself. Now move,"

Shane scowled at Daryl, but stepped aside. Daryl trudged past him with heavy footsteps and a tense posture.

He _hated _that man.

It wasn't because Shane treated him and his brother like white trash scum, nor was it because Shane was screwing his best friend's wife. Daryl could honestly care less; the bitch had a stick up her ass and could barely take care of her own damn kid.

It was because the bastard was a _cop _and he still acted like one. He had this sense of dictatorship and it was pathetic. He walked around with a cocky grin and a gun at his waist like he owned the damn place. Not to mention, he kept going on about this idea in Fort Benning, saying that the military base was the group's best chance of survival. Daryl knew better – no place is safe.

The redneck shook his head, adjusting the strap to his crossbow. Shane wasn't someone he needed to worry about. All Daryl needed to worry about was him and his brother. No one else. He passed the group of women down at the lake, watching as they chatted light-heartedly and scrubbed the men's grimy clothes. A couple of them glanced up at him, giving him disgusted looks while the other few just kept on with the laundry. He just shrugged and continued on his way.

Daryl could care less whether anyone here liked him or not. He was only staying with them for a short time, anyhow. Before he and his brother joined the little group, they planned to raid them and leave. Unfortunately, once Merle found out about the group's little trips into the city, he decided that they should stay for a little while longer. It didn't take long for Daryl to realize the real reason behind his brother's decision: so Merle could get more crystal. As much as it pained Daryl to see his brother throw away his life with the heavy drugs, he had to admit that Merle was much easier to get along with when he was doped up. He was usually quieter and sometimes even tolerable enough to sleep in the same tent with. But, the worst part about Merle's drug addiction would probably have to be the come down. He was such a _prick. _

But that was still his brother.

And Daryl would do anything for his Big Bro.

Finally reaching the tree line, Daryl emerged into the woods and allowed himself a small smile. Even in this world, the woods were still his home.

Rose waited patiently. After relaxing in the car for a couple hours and smoking half a pack of cigarettes, she ended up falling asleep. Walking for hours on end with no breaks and hardly any water was a surefire way to completely exhaust her, and she didn't even remember when her eyes shut. But now, Rose knew she had fucked up, because there was a hoard of biters outside her door and she was stuck inside a car with a rotting one.

_God, how many of these bastards are there?_ She wondered as the shadows continued to dance across the dashboard. She had her head and shoulders tucked in between her knees, hoping to keep herself hidden from the everlasting sea of biters. They were dumb as hell, but they could smell living flesh a mile off and were easily attracted to sound.

Once it seemed that they were all past her, Rose slid out from the car. They were far ahead of her at that point, but she still remained silent. Any noise louder that what the average ears could hear would send dozens of them her way. She grabbed her bag and tossed it over her shoulder before tip-toeing to the edge of the woods and allowing the trees to hide her.

She felt safe…well, as safe as a person could feel in this world.

Relishing in the shade that the trees provided, Rose lit up another cigarette and took out her water bottle. She had four more in her bag (hardly enough to last her the rest of the week, but she'd find more) and a few granola bars. She sipped from the water, grimacing at its flat taste and warm temperature, but endured it anyway.

It didn't take long before the sun stared to set, casting an orange and pink glow across the trees. Rose was hoisted up on a tree branch with one foot dangling in the air. She bit into her granola bar, ignoring its bland taste; she was just thankful to have any food at all. It was enough to fill her up, at least until tomorrow.

_I can't keep livin' like this forever, _Rose thought as she hoisted herself up onto a high tree branch. _I'm gonna have to stop sometime. Maybe suicide or somethin'. Cause this? It's not even worth it._

_But what about Papa? He'd want me to keep goin'._

_Yeah, but he wouldn't want me to suffer. And if I gotta live like this for the rest of my life, I'll be sufferin' plenty. _

It hurt her to think about the future, knowing that she'd be spending it on her own. No more family, no more friends. It would be complete and utter solitude.

And she hated that.

She hated this life.

"How much longer do I have to live this way?"

_**Hey, everyone. I'm so sorry that this took so long to write. My mind keeps thinking of new ideas for new stories and it's sometimes difficult for me to focus on one plot. I hope you still stick around after this! **_

_**Zoë **_


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